by Cindy Anstey
“We need to talk.”
“Really, Mr. Harlow, I don’t know what there is to talk about! You are leaving with the Steeples next week; we need to kiss as much as possible before we are faced with a dearth of embraces.”
“That is exactly what I wish to talk about.”
“Oh. I thought you wanted to talk about Rolland or our watery adventure … or some such.”
“Not at all. I wanted assurance that you are well … but I can see and feel that you are.” He squeezed as he spoke, smiling either at the knowledge that she was fine or the recollection of her demonstration of … fineness. “Squire Fleming has the counterfeiters well in hand, and it is no longer our concern.”
“Excellent. So let us return to our former activity.” Kate leaned forward, pressing her lips to his. But he did not press back. “Matt! Kiss me.” He did not comply. It was most inconsiderate, positively rude. “Fine. What, my dear sir, would you like to discuss about your far-too-early departure? Will I write? Most certainly … Perhaps the most pertinent question would be will you write?”
“I don’t wish to discuss writing when we have not established where our relationship is going.”
Kate grinned. “I thought that patently obvious.” She wiggled in his arms, trying to get closer, but it was not possible without kissing again, which she was all for … but it would seem that Matt was still in a talking mood.
“Kate, we have barely had time to get to know each other. Our living arrangements have forced us to rush. While there is no doubt that we are attracted to each other, where does it go from here? Our positions—”
Laying a finger across Matt’s lips, she shushed him. “It will be difficult seeing each other irregularly, relying on letters or news from others to maintain contact, and it will be thus for years. We are young, and we have a long time to wait … to save for our future, but really the only question should be about love. Do you love me?” She watched his face become excessively still and plunged on before she lost her nerve. “I love you. I think it patently obvious.”
She stared expectantly, anticipating the glow of rapture to shine through his eyes. Words echoing her own would not be out of place … and yet. It was rather disconcerting when Matt’s brow puckered and he huffed a sigh. A sigh? Kate swallowed in discomfort, shifting slightly away.
“There is no doubt of how we feel right now.” Matt nodded as if what he was saying made any sense. “We survived an ordeal together, with each other and helping each other, but in the days to come, will this euphoria fade? Will you come to wonder why you threw yourself into my arms?”
Kate frowned. Her euphoria was already starting to fade, and it had nothing to do with the ordeal or her feelings—why was Matt not declaring undying devotion…? Wasn’t that the way this was supposed to proceed?
“Do you have doubts about how you feel? For I have none. I can see a future for us—a happy future that involves living above a tailor shop or ladies’ dress shop—”
“Or both. We could divide the space.” Matt lifted one side of his mouth in a quirky smile—at last.
“Exactly.” Kate nodded emphatically. “Clearly, you have been thinking on this as well. I am greatly relieved. I was starting to wonder—”
“This is no easy path to walk. We are choosing a long, winding road full of pitfalls.”
“No, indeed not. It is a long road of anticipation and glorious moments like these. Although I would much rather be kissing than talking.”
Taking her at her word, Matt leaned forward, but Kate stopped him this time.
“Excuse me, kind sir, but I believe you have something to say before we continue.”
Matt grinned, lifting his hand to her cheek and caressing it. He shifted his gaze from her lips to her eyes. “Will you marry me?” he said in a solemn tone.
Kate shook her head. “No. That’s not it.”
Matt’s brow shot up, and he stared at her with an expression of confusion. “You won’t marry me?”
“Goose. No, that is not what you need to say.” Young men could be so thickheaded at times. “You have to state how you feel.”
“But you know how I feel.”
Kate snorted in a most unladylike fashion, but it was warranted. “You still have to say it.”
“I love you, Miss Kate Darby?”
“Is that a question or a statement?”
“A statement. I love you, Kate Darby. Completely. Now and forever.”
With a sigh of contentment, Kate nodded. “Wonderful. I love you, too, Matt Harlow.” Balancing on her tiptoes, Kate leaned forward, puckered and ready to seal the moment in a kiss, but Matt was still not finished talking.
“Excellent. Yes, most excellent, for I thought that might be the case. I gave Mr. Ernest my resignation this morning.”
Kate was dumbfounded, flabbergasted, and horrified; she stared at Matt, wordless for a second or two before expressing her disapproval. “Pardon! Matt, you can’t do that. I know we will not see each other nearly enough, but there are no valet positions available in Tishdale, certainly not at this time of year. I will not let you work in the field … No, no, you must go back to Mr. Ernest—”
“I could be a blacksmith; there seems to be a sudden lack at present. Or, perhaps, a wine merchant?”
“That is not in the least amusing, Mr. Harlow. No, no, this is terrible. I won’t have you give up your livelihood, a position of which you are rightfully proud, for me. Oh dear, what shall we do? You could claim to have been confused, not in your right mind … anything. Really, Matt, I will not let you sacrifice your very identity so that we can be together more often. I will not do it. I would much rather see you rarely than to have you think less and less of me because of what you gave up. Please, Matt, you will learn to hate me. I couldn’t take that; I couldn’t deal with that. Please—”
“Kate, no, it’s fine. All is well. I already have another position.” He touched her cheek again. “I apologize most profoundly. I did not realize how much the idea would upset you or I would have immediately added that I will be Mr. Ben’s man. When I spoke to him about the prospect, I found that he and Mr. Ernest had already discussed the possibility at Miss Imogene’s behest. Not perfect, I grant you … but Mr. Ben contrives to see Miss Imogene at least every month … and I can do that … we can be satisfied with that. Every month, not every year. Much better … don’t you think?”
Throwing her arms around Matt’s neck, Kate rested her chin on his shoulder. “Yes,” she said, though it sounded muffled.
“Was that yes, we can do it … or yes, you’ll marry me?”
Kate suppressed a giggle; now was not the time to be frivolous. She lifted her head and answered clearly and precisely, so there would be no doubt or misunderstanding. “Yes, Matt, my love, I can survive on monthly visits, and yes, I will marry you.”
She started to grin, but Matt’s reaction prevented her from doing so as her mouth was otherwise occupied.
* * *
IT TOOK AN extraordinary amount of time to stroll back to Shackleford Park; they could only walk about three steps before feeling an overwhelming urge to be in each other’s arms again. Since none expected them to be timely, they weren’t.
Marie greeted them as they stepped across the threshold. She clasped Kate tightly, tears welling in her eyes. When she pulled away, she glanced toward Matt, back at Kate, and then again at Matt. Almost certain, almost, that their newly forged relationship was not written across their foreheads, Matt was a trifle confused. However, Marie laughed, kissed his cheek, and hugged Kate again. Apparently, Marie was a mind reader.
Kate had to have a private talk with Mrs. Lundy, about which Kate was excessively mysterious. Matt found it alluring … though, truth be told, he found everything about Kate alluring. The way she walked, turned her head, blinked, smiled … yes, every move she made drew Matt’s attention. He thought he was hiding this finely honed interest, but he caught several side glances going from him to Kate, followed by a wide grin. Per
haps he wasn’t being as discreet as he thought.
The servants’ hall was bustling and noisy until Kate and Matt strolled in and then the staff, as one, turned toward them expectantly. Matt’s discomfort grew as he recognized the eager expressions. They were anticipating an announcement, something Matt wasn’t yet ready to do. If nothing else, he had to talk to Kate’s mother first. Looking for an escape route, Matt’s eyes wandered to the window and the frozen pond beside the stables.
“Can you skate?” he asked, leaning toward Kate.
“Not my forte,” she said quietly. “But I’m sure you would not mind catching me, if I fell.”
Matt turned toward Kate. “I would love to catch you.” He shifted dangerously close, within kissing distance.
“I’ll be at the pond, if you have need of me, Mrs. Lundy,” she said over his shoulder. And then in a whisper she added, “I’ll borrow Marie’s skates. She’s not inclined to spend any time in the cold.”
“I’ll see if Charles has any blades I can strap to my boots.” He leaned closer, garnering a collective gasp from their onlookers.
Rather than supply the expected kiss, they smiled at each other and then set off in opposite directions, ignoring the groans of frustration behind them.
* * *
BY THE TIME they were once again in the frigid outdoors, the snow had stopped and the sun had come out. The air was still frosty. Puffs of their steamy breath led the way to the deserted pond. Kate slipped a few times; it was near impossible to watch her footing when Matt was so near. She didn’t think he minded catching her, as he had not let go of her arm the last time.
Strapping on their skates took longer than normal, as there seemed to be a great need to stare wordlessly at each other for inordinate amounts of time. But eventually, they made it to the ice, which was far from smooth.
Kate, showing off, glided out ahead of her beau … only to stumble. Matt caught her as promised, but they both went down in a tumble anyway. Laughing, Matt reached over to help Kate up, but rather than cooperate, she pulled him down onto the ice beside her. He rewarded her, as expected, with a long, lingering kiss.
“We are already reaping the benefits of my changed employ, Kate, my love,” Matt whispered, as if his words were sweet nothings.
“How so?” She knew the ice was cold, but her body tingled with heat from her toes to her head.
“Mr. Ben has decided that he no longer wants to rush back to Canterbury. We will be staying until Twelfth Night.”
Kate gasped … quietly. “Another seven days. Oh, Matt, that is tremendous.”
“This does not mean we should limit our kisses.”
“Of course not.” Kate giggled. “We have to practice as much as possible.”
Matt smiled, lifted her hand to his lips, and pressed a soft, gentle kiss on her palm. He watched Kate flush, her gaze intensified, and she was suddenly breathless. It was a mirror of his reaction.
“You and me,” he said softly, swallowing, thinking of the future—until reality smacked him upside the head. “You and me … and your mam makes three,” he said with a grin. Kate had to know that her mam was not only included in their plans but welcome; he would not be the cause of a rift.
Kate’s smile grew. “I am very touched by your readiness to accommodate my mam, and I am happy to say that it will not be necessary. Our future is ours and ours alone.” She attempted to sit up and was very glad of Matt’s supporting hand.
“I don’t understand.” He pulled Kate to her feet.
“I had a good long talk with Mam when I overnighted in Vyse. She does not want to move into town or be part of a dress shop after all; she wants to stay near her boys and allows that she will get used to the solitude. She even complimented Mrs. Jordan … Though it was backhanded, it was the first time I have heard Mam speak with any kindness about the good woman. It bodes well. I believe Mam will settle quite happily … eventually. But I have come up with a splendid arrangement to speed up the process. I spoke to Mrs. Lundy about Mam doing the mending in the servants’ hall instead of her cottage. She could come over two days a week and enjoy the chaos of the household—more than enough activity for anyone. Mrs. Lundy thought it a most excellent idea.”
Matt smiled broadly and started to lift Kate’s hand to his lips again, but paused. A fairly large group of people were approaching the pond, skates in hand. It would seem the staff, almost in its entirety, had felt a burning need to skate. They huddled together at the far end of the pond—watching, trying to appear disinterested in the two persons on the opposite side.
Pippa watched them rather intently. Matt bowed in acknowledgment of her interest, and the girl huffed and turned away. He returned his gaze to the most marvelous person on the pond. “You are really quite amazing.”
“It was Johnny who brought about the change … well, encouraged Mam to admit that she did not want to have a dress shop.”
“Johnny?”
“Yes, he extolled your virtues almost the entire time he was in Vyse and convinced Mam that you were a worthy young man and that you would be able to care for me in grand style.”
“But you don’t need me to set up your business.”
“Yes, I know that. But it would seem that my mam was going to open the dress shop with me because she thought that I would not do it otherwise.”
“Silly Mrs. Darby.”
“Indeed.” Kate smiled again, glancing at the overly curious staff watching from the other side of the pond. “Shall we give them something to talk about?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Matt placed one hand on each of her cheeks, looking deeply into her eyes. “I love you, Kate.”
“I love you, too,” she said just before his lips touched hers … and the crowd at the end of the pond hooted and hollered and generally made a great nuisance of themselves.
Matt and Kate ignored them—completely.
Glossary
CHIMNEYPIECE: a fireplace mantel, mantelpiece
COTTAGE: in the Regency period, a small house with living space on the ground floor and one or more bedrooms under the eaves
DICKED IN THE NOB: silly, crazy
ELUCIDATE: explain, make clear
EWER: large jug with a wide mouth
LADY DAY: March 25; feast of the Annunciation
MARKER POST: road or mileage indicator
MUMPERS: beggars
STIR-UP DAY: day associated with the making of Christmas pudding
TETCHY: bad-tempered
RESPITE: short rest, postpone
Acknowledgments
Practically everyone that a writer meets influences her perception of the world. This, in turn, impacts her characters, helps flesh them out, and allows them to live and breathe with all their odd quirks and stellar qualities. So thank you, one and all!
More specifically, I would like to express my great appreciation to everyone at Swoon Reads. Emily is a patient and thorough editor whose enthusiasm is a great inspiration. Thank you, Rich and KB, for the amazing cover. It shouts historical Christmas and hints at the content perfectly. Thank you, fellow Swoon writers Danika and Kelly, for your advice and friendship.
To my family: I cannot tell you how much your support has meant to me, especially these past few months. To my husband, Mike: There are not enough words to describe how much I appreciate your care as we deal with new challenges. Deb and Christine: This book would not have made it to print without your help reading and rereading—updating and catching inconsistencies. Dan, Mom, Steve, Trudy, Dillan, Matthew, and Stew: Thank you for your encouragement.
And to my readers: Thank you for your eagerness and interest in my characters and the dilemmas they face. I hope you enjoyed Carols and Chaos.
Merry Christmas!
Cindy
chapter 1
In which Miss Imogene Chively prays for a sudden rainstorm or a stampede of goats
GRACEBRIDGE MANOR, FOTHERINGHAM, KENT—EARLY JULY 1817
“Jasper!” Imogene Chively sh
outed as she jumped to her feet, flinging her sketch into the grass. “Don’t move! Stay. Stay exactly where you are!” Grabbing her skirts ankle-height with one hand and desperately waving the other, she raced across the courtyard of the old castle. “Emily, help!” she shouted over her shoulder without a backward glance.
She couldn’t look away; Imogene’s eyes were glued to those of Jasper. If she looked away, he might try to leap off the crumbling wall. And he couldn’t.… Shouldn’t. It was too high. There was no doubt of an injury—a broken leg or, worse yet, a snapped neck or a blow to the head. “Stay,” she said again but in a softer, crooning tone, almost a prayer.
Having reached the wall, Imogene found Jasper two feet above her reach—even on tip-tip toes. He stared down at her, pleased with all the attention, tail wagging, tongue lolling.
“Oh, Jasper,” Emily Beeswanger said behind her. “You silly dog, what have you done now?” Emily, Imogene’s fast friend for all their eighteen years, was well versed in Jasper’s antics.
The St. John’s water dog continued to wag.
“Can you keep him from jumping, Emily? Yes, hold your hands up like a barrier. Exactly. I will go around behind him.”
“You can’t climb the wall, Imogene. It’s too fragile. It will fall down, taking you with it.”
“Yes, I know. But I need to get higher. I have to encourage him to back up—he doesn’t have room to turn,” she said, looking up at the narrow ledge of the ruins. Frowning, she glanced across the courtyard to where they had lain a coverlet on the grass beside the moat. “Or,” she said, her eyes settling on the basket atop the blanket. “I have a better idea; I know what always encourages obedience.”
“Food,” Emily said knowingly.
“Indeed.” Imogene turned and sauntered back across the cobblestone. She would have preferred to run, but doing so would have fueled Jasper’s excitable nature and encouraged him to leap over Emily’s outstretched arms to join her. She had just reached into the basket when a nearby voice startled her. Spinning around, Imogene locked eyes with a young gentleman standing on the arch of the moat bridge.